


Anchor

by Aithilin



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Sometimes, Fai just needs a haircut.





	

Fai could only stand long hair up to a certain point. Kurogane had learned that how he kept his hair was the best indicator of Fai’s mental health— too long, and he was no longer engaged with the world around him. Too long and he was reminded of cold stone and years spent in snow so bloodied it had turned black. Too long and it was like Infinity, when he no longer hid the fact that he was not living for himself— when he resented being forced to love and thus dedicated himself to living for Sakura, for his chosen princess.

When his refusal to do much more for his own comfort than tie the whole thing back and out of his way— like an unwanted but expected weight draped over him. 

Too long, and Kurogane was reminded of when Fai resented him. Resented the value placed on his life. When it felt like Fai could see and sense everything he wanted; when Fai understood the stolen touches and threw them back like blades. 

In some worlds, Fai would visit the shops that were around— the barbers and stylists and the groomers that caught his eye along busy streets. In some worlds, he encouraged the creative ideas the stylists suggested (that’s how he ended up with a streak of red he claimed matched Kurogane’s eyes in one world). In others, when they didn’t have the money or the time, it was as simple as taking a sharp pair of scissors to the bundle tied back. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

And then there were the worlds where the frustration with it set in. Where there were no fancy stylists with their tools and artistry and flattery, or even the dull worlds where there was just a sharp pair of scissors. There were worlds where Fai had gotten frustrated with the upkeep— the tangles and stray curls, the need to tie it back or push it away. Where his mouth went from a happy smile to a thin line, strained despite the jokes and laughter. It had been weeks of that frustration and impatience, those thin lines Kurogane had not seen since Infinity. It had been weeks of frustration and Kurogane was tempted to just push back. 

This world— with its mud and war and the close quarters— only had daggers. And a dagger in Fai’s hand when he wasn’t happy could be a dangerous thing to anyone. 

“You’re overreacting, Kuro-sama.”

“Let me do it, idiot.” Kurogane took the dagger from Fai. It was easier than he expected, not as harsh as he anticipated. He didn’t need to pry it from those thin fingers, didn’t need to force his point that he thought any weapon in Fai’s hand was a bad idea right now. 

Fai turned, resettled, his back to Kurogane and hands quickly working the ribbon around his hair. 

It had been months now. The whole mess was at a length Kurogane liked. Would have liked to see Fai keep. It fell lower than he had seen since… He can’t actually remember how long it had been since Fai’s hair had been left so wild, so flowing. Such a dull gold, that slipped so easily through his fingers. 

“Stop gawking and cut it, Kuro-sama,” Fai barely turned his head to look Kurogane in the eye. His hair barely moved from where it fanned out beneath the ribbon. 

Kurogane stroked his hand through the lengths first, before he tugged the ponytail lightly and made the cut. He had slipped the knife behind the ponytail, pulled it towards him, and almost wished there was more resistance than there was. Fai’s hair was certainly thick enough to cause trouble. Fai certainly caused enough trouble. 

“It’s the fashion in Japan to keep it long.” 

He would get rid of the mass of gold strands later. He thought it looked like a discarded veil— all fine strands and barely held together like delicate lace that has come loose. He remembered the weight of it the night before in his hands, the softness just now. The muffled sound of finality from the dagger dropped on top of it all.

The ends were already curling again, the ribbon now too low to stay tied. Kurogane retied it higher, smiling as the blond strands curled so easily around his fingers like the golden threads Tomoyo used to work into her outfits— the sort of threads she used to make things shine and shimmer. His knuckles brushed the back of Fai’s neck, the ribbon more messy than Fai’s neat, practiced bows. 

“Would you prefer I kept it long?” He could see the thin smile, the stiffness at the touch, the wariness. 

Kurogane huffed, pulled Fai against his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“But would you?”

“Why should it matter? It’s your hair. Just don’t cut it as short as mine, you’d look terrible like that.” 

He tightened his hold at Fai’s laugh— at the lightness of it, at the airy chime of it— grumbled as he held on to the mage until the slighter man squirmed and forced his way around until they were face to face. “What?”

“Kuro-sama doesn’t think I can pull off his look? Maybe I should try. Where’s that dagger?”

He kissed the grin away, chased the teasing back. Fai was back to his light, airheaded self, already floating away from the anchor that had soured him for the past few months. He was smiling and playful and still all hands. 

“You tease too much, idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> This really comes from my personal reaction to a fanon that I've seen a lot of lately.


End file.
